


The Price of Strength

by aria_vitali



Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aria_vitali/pseuds/aria_vitali
Summary: Or personal writing prompt: 'I knew I loved you'
Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616035
Kudos: 21





	The Price of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry

You remember the day rather vividly. The day when you learned the price of your strength.

After Ul'dah, you were wary. The green-eyed adventurer that you once were died at that banquet and thus became replaced by a veteran with a closed heart. Never did you think that, in the land of ice and snow, you would find someone that would melt your heart with warmth as fervent as a crackling hearth. Eyes of similar fashion and hair of silver, his smile broke you from the cage and healed your agony enough for you to continue carrying on. _He_ was your beacon. _He_ was your hope incarnate.

Never did you imagine that it would fall apart right at the seams.

You remember the crimson that he choked out on impact. You could hear the sound of a body hitting the floor and the screams that follow echoing in your mind. You could feel the dying beat of his pulse as he was being slowly pulled back into the Lifestream, back to Halone's halls. You see the smile that he gives you, urging you to do the same.

You taste the venom of the title he called you soaking on your tongue.

You were no hero, you think. If you were, you would have been able to save him. You would have been able to perform the miracles needed to ensure that the rescue had a happy ending. So, as you sit before the stone headstone overlooking Ishgard proper, you uncork a bottle of the strongest spirit you could find and drink.

One in memory for the day you two had met.  
One in remembrance for the man that saved you in your darkest chapter in life.  
One in acknowledgement to the way his voice made your heart skip a beat.  
One in the acceptance of a truth you were too afraid to share with him when he was alive.

You don't know how long it has been since you first arrived. Ignoring the biting cold winds brushing against your skin, you've remained here for bells on end, finishing bottle after bottle to the point you don't remember where you had even acquired the merchandise from. All you knew was that you wanted to mute the guilt, the pain, the burning _agony_ of your failure in the hope that your emotions would be buried along with his body beneath this frozen ground. 

You weren't going to end it yourself, for that would be a disservice to the person he knew you as. For now, you would allow yourself this. Allow yourself the pleasure of wallowing in the abyss and, in the morn, you would set about doing the work only a Warrior of Light could do. For _that_ is the price of your strength, paid for in the scars that can and cannot be seen.

So lost were you in the haze of intoxication that you barely registered the sound of crunching snow behind you. When it finally dawned on you that you had a guest, you peered over your shoulder and found a worried Lord Francel Haillenarte standing behind a concerned lord commander. At the sight of you, Aymeric glanced towards the Haillenarte son and inclined his head, to which the lord offered a silent bow before departing.

"There you are," Aymeric calls to you. "When Lord Francel arrived at my doorstep with nothing but distress for you, I was truly beside myself."

Aymeric took steps closer to you, enough that he could kneel at your side. You saw the way his gaze flickered between the empty bottles surrounding you. With the way his nose crinkled, he perhaps even smelled the scent of alcohol wafting from your general area. Yet, he made no comment on your choices, a silent understanding that, in being strong for so long, it was only a matter of time before you reached your breaking point.

"If you need to find an outlet to vent your displeasure, allow it to be me," Aymeric muttered with a broken voice.

Your eyes wandered towards him lethargically, wondering where in the seventh hell he pulled the thought from. Yes, it was his decision that was his ultimate folly, but everyone in that room in the Fortemps manor resolved to supporting him. They wanted to follow the leader that was to be the future of Ishgard and no war is won without sacrifices-

Ah. So _that_ is what you needed to learn.

In your understanding, you murmur quiet words of reassurance towards the man, answering that it's not his fault. That it was your collective decision to storm the Vault. The reason why you were mourning this way was for a different reason.

"What ... is troubling you so?" Aymeric answered with hesitation.

You smiled grimly and explained that it was because you had come to a realization. When the lord commander didn't respond, waiting for you to continue, a single tear streaked down your cheek. It was simple, really.

  
The fact that you knew you loved Haurchefant when you had to let him go.


End file.
